Darkness
by guardianrock
Summary: Maura's life had been on her scarred, clumsy hands. Jane had no problem handling her own life, but Maura's life was another matter. Set immediately after 3x02.


**DARKNESS**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or the show; they belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT. The poem Darkness by Lord Byron is of public domain, it also doesn't belong to me.

**Parading:** Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles.

**Rating**: T

**Summary:** Maura's life had been on her scarred, clumsy hands. Jane had no problem handling her own life, but Maura's life was another matter. Set immediately after 3x02.

_The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,_  
_The Moon, their Mistress, had expired before;_  
_The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,_  
_And the clouds perish'd; darkness had no need_  
_Of aid from them—she was the Universe._

_-Lord Byron, Darkness (1816)._

It was unnecessary, Jane's skin was clean and it had pinked and pruned under the constant stream of water, but she needed to wash her hands again. Just one more time. Just one more time and the smell of blood and dirt would disappear under the perfume of Maura's expensive soap.

Just one more time.

Jane had washed away Maura's blood from her hands hours ago, but she could still smell it on her skin and under her fingernails. She could still feel its warmth on her palms and the way it hardened her skin as it dried.

Maura's blood had been on her hands. Maura's life had been on her scarred, clumsy hands. Jane had no problem handling her own life with the recklessness that had sent her to the hospital on more than one occasion since the moment she learned to walk, but Maura's life was another matter.

The logical part of Jane, the one that sounded a lot like Maura, told her that it wasn't her fault. She hadn't been reckless or stupid that day. Shit happened and she did her best to protect Maura. The other part of her, the one that whispered Jane's fears into her very soul with a raspy voice that sent chills down her spine, told her that she was a complete fuck up that would destroy everything she touched. She was tainted by darkness and her touch, her love, was poison. Maura would not be an exception.

Maura was one of the few precious and beautiful things in the world that gave Jane hope that not everything was dark and twisted and completely fucked up. It was Maura's beautiful smile -adorned by the most adorable set of dimples- that gave her the strength she needed to get up and face the world and its demons. It was Maura's awkward and earnest sincerity that soothed Jane's heart.

It was Maura.

Maura was the light in Jane's life. A goofy, socially awkward and completely endearing light that in more than one occasion made Jane her bitch. Not that Maura needed to know that. Jane still had some dignity left.

"You are a mess, Rizzoli," she murmured, looking at her reflection. She looked as she felt: like utter shit. She was bone tired and everything that had a name hurt like hell. "One more for the collection," Jane said, tracing the cut on her forehead. It wasn't deep, but there would be a little scarring. In a few months it would be nothing more than a thin, white line that only Jane would be able to see, but it would be there. It would be there reminding her of her latest brush with death. It would be there reminding her of Maura's blood staining her clothes, seeping out of the small incisions that marred her beautiful skin and into the cold, hard ground.

The incisions Jane had been forced to make to save Maura's leg and her life.

Jane closed her eyes. She tried to push away the images, memories, of Maura's pale face.

"Fuck," she hissed, slamming her hand against the counter. Now that she was alone she couldn't stop thinking about it. She couldn't stop thinking about the terror that had seized her as she held Maura and realized she couldn't protect her.

She couldn't protect Maura. Not from some yoga instructor, or from Doyle's enemies or from Charles Hoyt.

_Lavender and fear, Jane. _

She had managed to save Maura's life, just barely, but what about the next time? Because there would be a next time; disaster and death followed her everywhere.

_Lavender and fear._

She was being followed by darkness, and it wouldn't be long before it overtook her. Before the darkness within swallowed her whole and devoured Maura too.

How long could she hold back? How long could she see Maura looking at her with her beautiful, gentle eyes and hold back the desire for more? To take what was being offered to her every time their eyes met.

She could drown herself in Maura. Lose herself in her arms, her lips, her skin… She could drown the darkness with Maura's love, and hope Maura's light would be enough.

But it wouldn't be enough.

Some degenerated psycho would take Maura from her, if Jane didn't break her before.

How long could she hold the darkness back? Hold long before all the strength left her? How long before it consumed her?

How long before Jane's darkness devoured Maura?

It wouldn't be long.

THE END.

(reviews are love)


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